For something so exciting, terrifying, and horrible, everything afterwards was boring. Well, except for telling the story to the police — Chief Collig himself listened and wrote down what Joe said, and that made Joe feel much older…grown-up. As Joe was finishing the whole story, Mrs. Bell showed up. Charlie apologized over and over for ruining the third-floor wall, though Mrs. Bell told him not to worry about it. Frank and Joe took the cops and Mrs. Bell down to the basement to show them the crack between the drywall panels and explain about the area behind it, and one of the cops climbed down the metal spikes to bring back all the evidence.

Including the books. The big, colorful Book of Kells was ruined: pages ripped out, scribbled on, burned, and scorch marks on the cover. Frank took it from the officer, laid it carefully on the check-out counter, then looked at Joe. He didn't say anything. He didn't have to. Joe felt the same way; they'd wanted to get that for Kris for Christmas, and now…

Well, no use crying now.

Joe couldn't figure Kris out, though. Quiet, withdrawn, barely answering any questions, she stayed huddled on the first-floor couch, watching everyone with her face hidden behind her curled-up knees and arms.

"Just out of curiosity," Charlie said to Joe, as they waited for the ambulance. "What was that you yelled up there?"

Joe blinked. Charlie didn't recognize it? "The Indian war-cry."

Charlie just looked at him…and looked at him…then sighed, shaking his head.

"I didn't do it right?" Joe said.

"That woo-woo thing?" Frank said. "You sounded like Daffy Duck."

"The Three Stooges," Charlie said, smiling slightly. "That bald guy, Curly."

Joe opened his mouth to snap back, but then the ambulance arrived, and once they got to the ER, everything got real boring, real quick. The EMTs, nurses, and doctors wanted to make sure Joe and Kris weren't hurt by the stuff on the rag — after a careful sniff, Charlie had said it was chloroform, but the doctors were running tests to be officially sure — and to check for broken bones and internal injuries. Learning about the chloroform was a small bit of excitement; Joe had never been chloroformed before, and he wasn't going to forget that stinky-sweet smell any time soon.

But then…

"NO! Get away from me! Leave me alone!"

"Kris," Charlie's soothing voice, over top of hers, "little sister, come on, the doctor just needs to look at the damage, that's all…"

"I said leave me alone!" Something hit the wall with a plastic crack. "Get away from me!"

Frank shoved himself up off the squeaky pleather chair and pushed through the curtain to Kris's side of the partition. It took Joe a few seconds to follow as he had to untangle the IV tube, and he stopped right behind Frank.

Screaming, holding blankets against her belly as if it hurt, Kris was backed into the corner. She didn't have an IV; she was still in her jeans and sweatshirt, though a hospital gown lay on the bed. Charlie squatted in front of her, talking in low tones, while Doctor Kelly and one of the nurses stood at the end of the bed, both scowling.

"Young lady," Doctor Kelly said, "there is no excuse for this —"

"Doctor…" Charlie cut him off, then breathed something out, gripped Kris by the shoulder — she flinched away — and stood, dragged Doctor Kelly and the nurse out into the hall, leaving Joe and Frank alone with Kris.

Trembling so hard she could barely stand, Kris didn't move, staring after the adults with tears streaming down her face.

"Tag?" Joe moved around the bed; it was awkward, holding the IV bag and line, and finally he set it down on Kris's bed. "It's okay, Tag. It's just like last year. They just want to make sure we're okay. See?" He held up his arm with the IV.

"No, they don't." Kris shook her head hard. "They don't. They want to…because I'm…I'm…I won't!"

Joe looked around, hoping Frank might know what she meant. But Frank had left.

"I told 'em he didn't, and they don't believe me." Kris wiped at her face. "They never believe me. No one ever does."

"I do," Joe said. "Me and Frank'll always believe you, Tag. I can sit here while the doctor's here, if you want. I'll make sure they won't hurt you."

Kris shook her head even harder. "No!"

"Tag?" Frank came back through the curtains and held out a paper cup. "Here. Go on. Throw it at me."

There was a pause.

"I'd tell you to throw it at Joe, but he probably needs to be sterile and the nurses'll yell if they have to clean him off again. So go ahead." Frank glanced back over his shoulder. "I can pull the curtain back and you can aim for Charlie, if you want."

"What are you talking about?" Joe demanded.

"Um…" Kris said, at the same time, looking at the cup that Frank still held out. "What's that?"

"Grape Kool-aid," Frank said. "They didn't have any PBJs, though. I asked."

Joe stared at his brother — then memory caught up. The first time they'd met Kris, they'd scared her so badly that she'd thrown a whole glass of grape Kool-aid and a peanut-butter sandwich at them. Aunt Gertrude had never gotten the purple stains out of their shirts.

Kris stared at Frank, at the cup — and then Mar and Dad stormed in. Both stopped. Mar looked from Kris to the brothers and back…and Kris broke down sobbing.

Mar went over, gathered Kris up into a hug, and pulled her over to the bed to sit as Mar held and rocked her.

Frank set the Kool-aid down on the side table within Kris's reach, and went back over to Joe's side.

"Joe," Dad said, and steered Joe back to his side of the curtain. Dad pulled the curtain-partition closed to give Mar and Kris privacy, then turned. For a long, serious moment, he just looked at Joe and Frank. Joe fidgeted uncomfortably, ow'd when the motion set off another throb of pain all through his stomach and chest; Frank helped him back into the bed.

"Okay," Dad said. "Let's hear it."

About mid-way through the tale, Charlie pulled the curtain back just enough so he and Mar could listen and so Charlie could add in his own side. Dad's mouth twitched when Joe described what he'd done with the table leg; both Mar and Charlie burst out laughing.

"Charlie told you to run," Dad said to Frank, as the story wound down. "You could've run right into that man down in that basement."

"I couldn't, Dad." Frank glared right back. "Charlie ran upstairs and he didn't know about the basement and he wouldn't have known if me and Joe hadn't done that. I would've run if the cockroach was down there, honest!"

"And I couldn't get out," Joe said, guessing what Dad was about to say next. Jabbing a criminal in the butt with a table leg probably wasn't on Dad's list of safe things to do. "I couldn't just wait for him to beat me and Tag up. I couldn't!"

"I'm not arguing that part, Joe," Dad said. "You did exactly right. You — all of you," he amended, with a sigh and glance at Frank, "used your brains and got out of a bad situation."

"When someone sets the stakes of them versus you," Mar said, "you'd better damn well choose you. At that point, all bets are off, and whatever you do to stay alive is fair game."

Shocked at the curse word, Joe stared at Mar. Dad only glanced at her, but didn't correct her.

"You all stood up to a bully," Charlie said. "An adult bully, that's all that cockroach is. He thought you were frightened rabbits, and you showed him that rabbits bite. Worst fight I ever saw — Grandma's ol' tomcat cornered a jackrabbit, and next thing I knew, that cat was flying through the air and bleeding all over its face. Never saw a cat run away so fast in my life."

"But he won't stop," Kris burst out, a soft, despairing wail. "He won't. He found me and he knows where I am and he'll keep coming back!"

"Stop." Mar gathered Kris back into a hug. "Stop right there, squirrel. First…according to my SFPD contact, that cockroach is wanted out there for a long list of felonies, and I made sure Chief Collig knew it."

"She's right," Dad said. "That means Bayport police will extradite him right back to San Francisco."

"But —"

"No buts," Mar said. "So he'll be back out west, all the way across the country, and in jail. And with the record he has, he'll be watched pretty close when he gets out."

"But how was he getting into school?" Frank said. "No one saw him. For that matter, how'd he even get out here? Tag said…um…sorry, Tag…but they were really poor. If he managed it once…"

There was a pause. Mar and Charlie looked at each other, and Joe had the odd feeling there was something they weren't saying, something that adults would never tell kids about, and Joe glared at both of them. That wasn't fair…

"I did it, too," Charlie said to Frank. "I got all the way in and right up to you before your teacher even asked who I was. It's not hard to do, kiddo. All he had to do was watch and time things right."

"Especially in a small town like Bayport," Dad sighed. "As for getting out here, there's charities that might've given him bus money if he fed them a big enough sob story. Believe me, I'll be looking into it and making some folks very aware of it."

That made Joe feel better. If Dad was going to handle it, then the cockroach wouldn't be able to sneeze without Dad knowing about it.

Kris was shaking her head. But that point, the doctor came back with the test results — bad bone-deep bruises, strained muscles, shock, and both Kris and Joe had broken ribs where they'd slammed into each other, but no effects from the drug — and the discharge info, along with a prescription for pain medication and orders for Kris and Joe to stay home and rest for a few days. Not that Joe minded: right now, all he wanted to do was sleep.

But Joe snuck a look at those orders as Dad and Mar were talking to the nurse, and saw that the doctor's orders included a release from school for the week. At that, Joe brightened: the school's Christmas break started that coming Thursday. That meant he had a whole extra week of Christmas vacation!

"You rat," Frank whispered, looking over Joe's shoulder, and Joe grinned back.

But Charlie was leaning against the wall, watching them. He caught Frank's eye, and Frank went still. Charlie said nothing for a long moment, then, solemn and serious, "I believe I told you what the rules were, and what the consequences would be if you disobeyed. You deliberately broke them. Your dad was right. You could've been hurt real bad. Even killed."

Frank scowled. Joe opened his mouth — if it hadn't been for Frank finding them, he and Kris would've been hurt a lot worse — but Charlie's gaze rested on him for a moment, and Joe swallowed the words.

"So," Charlie went on, "one question, Frank. Was it worth it?"

Frank straightened. "Yes, sir," he said fiercely. "And I'd do it again and again and again, no matter what."

Charlie nodded. "Enough said."

Later, after Dad had gotten them home and Aunt Gertrude had spent a good hour freaking and fussing over Joe and Frank, Joe finally made it up to bed. Frank had to help him get his shirt off to change into pajamas; Joe's chest, arms, and shoulders hurt too bad and were too stiff to move much. But when Joe finally wrestled his shirt off, Frank stopped, staring.

"He did all that?"

Joe looked down. The bruises were spread all over the left side of his chest and hip, deep black, with purple and green around the edges; they matched his face. "Tag fell on me. When he dropped her, I mean, after she bit him. He did this, though." Joe gingerly touched his face and eye, ow'd, then went back to pulling on his pajamas.

There was something in Frank's face, something Joe hadn't seen before. Something grim, adult. "I wish Charlie had shot him," Frank said. "I wish he'd've blown his brains all over the wall. If he'd given me the gun, I would've!" Then Frank stopped, his gaze on Joe. "I saw the needle."

Joe looked away. He didn't know what had been in that hypodermic. He didn't want to know.

His gaze fell on his desk, and the Christmas Rose. The limp Christmas Rose.

No. No. Joe went over. Not just limp: the edges of the leaves were brown and curling, petals fallen and scattered across the desk. It hadn't looked good after the locker disaster, but Joe had hoped…

"Oh," Frank said, behind him. Frank lifted a few of the leaves, then the flowers, then bent his head.

"You don't need to say it," Joe whispered, and turned back towards his bed. Of all the things that…that…cockroach had done…ruining the little plant, a silly little flower that had nothing to do with anything…

…that Mom had loved…

"Joe…" Frank said, and Joe looked back. Frank lifted up what remained of one of the flowers — a couple green pods hung from the center. "Seeds. We could plant them outside in the spring."

"Yeah." Joe just wanted to sleep. "You do that."

Silence for a bit, then a heavy sigh. Frank sat down on his own bed. More silence, but their light stayed on. Joe looked over; Frank was still watching him.

"What?" Joe said.

"You know what this means, right?" Frank said. "We caught the thief. We solved the case!"

Joe blinked.

"We're real detectives now," Frank said. "And no one can say we're not."

Joe stared back…and, slowly, a huge warmth of pride began to glow deep in his chest. Frank was right. Everyone would know he and Frank were real detectives now, even Dad and Chief Collig.

Now smiling, Frank turned the light off. "See you in the morning, Inspector Hardy."